What Do You Want for Christmas?
by suerum
Summary: An exploration of what Spinelli might really desire to receive for Christmas.


Author's Note: I have no rights to or affiliations with the show General Hospital

What Do You Want for Christmas?

It was a perennial question for him but it always took on a special significance around this time of year. He knew the answer and it wasn't just confined to Christmas either, it was three hundred sixty-five and one quarter days of the year that he wanted it. It was as unswerving a constant in his personal firmament of desire as the North Star was to all those who navigated by it. The answer to that query formed him, shaped him and guided him in all things.

He clearly remembered the first moment someone bothered to ask him that question when he was capable of articulating his desire, of sharing the secret which lay cherished and unfulfilled deep within his soul. He had been four, maybe five, when his grandmother took him to see Santa in the next town over. He remembered it all quite clearly. He stood quietly next to his grandmother, not clinging to her the way the other children latched onto their mothers' hands. No, he knew better, it just wasn't that way between them but today for the first time ever that was okay because he was going to ask Santa for what he wanted and everything would be different afterward. He knew he would have to wait until Christmas because that's what you did, you got your presents on Christmas. He didn't mind, he was a patient little boy and waiting was a way of life for him.

He climbed carefully up into Santa's lap and looked up at him with a grave trust. That was the first time he heard the magical, mythical question in a booming voice echoing from bearded lips, "What do you want for Christmas, little boy?"

He didn't hesitate, when he wanted a thing, knew it to be right, he was capable of going after it with a stubborn intensity that would become a hallmark of his character. He reached one small hand up and entwining his fingers in the faux white fur lining the red suit, tugged lightly. He wanted his answer to be a secret, to be between him and Santa, no one else. Santa looked a little startled that such a small, timid looking creature was basically taking control of a true and tried interview process. He smiled and obligingly bent his head so that a tiny voice could utter what he desired above all things into his listening ear.

Santa frowned and drew back discommoded, "That's what you want for Christmas?" He needed clarification. After all, it was a request he had never before run across in all his years of being the representative for the jolly old elf in this backwoods part of Tennessee.

The boy just nodded and confirmed it with a barely audible whispered, "Yes."

A faint frown line formed between Santa's eyes as he stared down at the little changeling sitting in his lap. After a moment, he smiled down at the little boy and said, "I'll see what I can do." Then he handed him a candy cane and passed him to the waiting elf to return him to his grandmother. For the rest of the day, Santa was haunted by a pair of the most guileless green eyes he had ever seen looking up at him with terrible hope, longing and, worst of all, faith.

Of course he didn't get what he wanted that year or the next or the one after that. Still, nothing changed in his pursuit of his cherished desire except that Santa no longer factored into the equation. He'd given him his fair shot and he wasn't holding a grudge, he didn't really do grudges. He merely realized, with a maturity beyond his years, that it was too big of an order for the man in the red suit to fill.

When he was in fifth grade, he tried once more to take a concrete approach to solving this problem which was a persistent undercurrent to his life. The church he and his grandmother attended was having a Christmas Eve party and each child in the congregation was asked to write down what they wanted on a piece of paper with a code word only they would recognize. Then, at the party, the children would scramble under the tree looking for the gaily wrapped package with their unique code word on it. That way they got their gift but none of the adults running the program could intuit which child each gift was for and decide to choose something else for them, as for instance by selecting an item that they might deem to be a more practical or appropriate.

That year he wrote what he wanted on a piece of paper and placed it in the basket which was being passed around at the end of the service. He was older now and he realized that it was unlikely he would receive what he had requested. He had done it almost as an experiment, something to test the waters of some inchoate concept such as spirituality or maybe just good old fashioned human ingenuity. Truthfully, he really didn't know why he did it, only that he had.

When Christmas Eve finally arrived and with it the party, he was keyed up, he hadn't slept much the night before. He tried to convince himself that it was just an academic exercise that there was no way someone could actually take his wish and form something tangible from it. Still, the part of him which was forever and always a little green-eyed boy of four or five who had thought if you just believed hard enough anything was possible, that little boy, it turned out, was alive and well inside him.

He dove into the fray for the presents with the rest of children, many of whom were in his class at school but none of whom were his friends. His gift, the one with the binary code on it, was at the bottom of the pile. It was poorly wrapped, a corner had been torn off and he could see something brightly colored sticking through. The package was a rectangular shape of a certain thickness wrapped in gaudy reindeer paper and finished off with a tired looking blue ribbon which had lost its curl.

He recognized that it was a videocassette right away and so the only thing left to speculate about was how someone could have translated what he had written on his paper and tucked into the basket into the actuality of a movie. Of course, maybe they hadn't even bothered, he admitted to himself with a cynicism unbecoming for a fifth grader. This was probably some movie they had at home or that was on sale at the local discount store.

He was right and he was wrong. It was clearly a movie someone had not spent much money on but it wasn't a movie he had seen. He peered at the Roman numerals on the cardboard box and deciphered them as nineteen eighty-three which meant the movie predated him. 'A Christmas Story' was emblazoned over the red and green front with a picture of a goofy looking kid wearing glasses and grinning on it. He flipped it over to read the synopsis and found out that it was about some kid named Ralphie and his desire for a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas. So, it was at least about Christmas, about wanting something particular and specific for Christmas but beyond that he couldn't tell what relevance it might have toward what he had requested.

Later that night, his grandmother was upstairs and snoring gently. She was sleeping off her one alcoholic indulgence of the year which was a glass of aged whiskey. She ritually tossed it back with surprising élan as she stared wistfully at his grandfather's unsympathetic visage in the picture looming over the mantelpiece. After quietly assuring himself of her deep unconsciousness, he crept downstairs and popped the video into the living room player. He didn't have the slightest inkling that a holiday tradition had just been born. From that year forth, no matter where he was or who he was with, there was one constant to his Christmas celebrations, he watched 'A Christmas Story' each and ever year.

He discovered that the movie was actually quite good. It was nostalgic, funny even, and he rather liked Ralphie with whom he shared certain character traits including an extremely vivid imagination. Yet, he found that for him the real resonance of the story lay in Ralphie's search for his BB gun as he navigated the roadblocks that both his own family and society at large placed in his path. He even saw a re-enactment of his own younger pilgrimage to Santa Claus reflected imperfectly back at him from the television screen. Still, Ralphie was much luckier than he was because in the end not only did he receive his prized gun, also throughout the entire story he possessed the other gift so sought after by his less fortunate pseudo-doppelganger. He wasn't envious though. In truth, he wasn't quite sure what he felt except for the undeniable fact that he was compelled to end each year by watching this bright and shiny Christmas fable.

It was the first DVD he ever purchased and he carried it with him when he left home to go north for college. Years afterward, when he had compiled a large assortment of movies, it would be an anomaly secreted amongst the science fiction films and film noir classics which were the mainstay of his collection. It was the type of aberration which would have been noted by a friend checking through his videos and holding up that particular one, would say something like, "Hey, Dude, what's this doing here?" Or perhaps if the friend were female, it would be commentary more along the lines of, "Oh, I love this movie! My Mom and I would watch it together every year." In either case, the appropriate response on his part would be some inaudible murmur and a blushing face. It had never occurred though, no one was ever in his orbit in such a manner that they sat around comfortably checking out his video collection. Loss or not, he wasn't sure, it was just how his life was.

By now, all these years later, there were only faint remnants of his search for the one thing he ever truly wanted. Some sort of uneasy truce with his subconscious held for most of the year which meant the issue only came to the forefront anymore around the holidays, most specifically Christmas. Then he pretty much relied on the tradition of watching the movie to act as balm to his weary spirit, enabling his never quite ending quest to lie dormant for one more year.

So, in recompense for lacking that which he yearned for, he had derived a number of coping methods to get through the difficult times of the holidays where it seemed like everyone but he had friends and family with which to celebrate. He stayed busy, spent time with people and also by himself and he always watched 'A Christmas Story'. By the time New Years rolled around he was recharged for another twelve months of being a recurrent outsider. Tonight, as he turned the key in the door, he wasn't really thinking about anything more complex or philosophical than putting some popcorn in the microwave and perhaps substituting a hot chocolate for his usual orange soda, maybe even including some marshmallows. It was Christmas after all….

"Where the hell have you been?" Two iron fists clenched the front of his jacket as he found himself thrown up against the wall by the door, a pair of brilliant blue eyes blazing furiously at him. His roommate's hot breath wafted across his face and his voice was harsh and fatigued sounding.

"Sto…ne…Cold," he stuttered out, not understanding why his roommate was manhandling him thus. "What transgression did your Jackal inadvertently perform to cause such an outbreak of temper on your part?"

Jason visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in agitation, "Are you fucking kidding me?" He growled out, his fists tightening impossibly further, gripping Spinelli as though he would never release him. "Transgression! I have been looking for you for the past six hours. Where have you been?" He asked the question again, this time accompanying it with a shake as though Spinelli was a little puppy caught in the jaws of a wolf.

Spinelli belatedly realized what he was seeing revealed in Jason's expression was less emotion fueled by anger and rather more the sheer starkness of primitive terror. His supposition was further supported as he observed the tension in his friend's hunched shoulders somewhat loosening as his fear was slowly ameliorated by relief.

"You were searching for the Jackal?" He asked puzzlement clearly evident in his tone, "I was not aware of an appointment. Did the grasshopper overlook some task he was meant to perform for his Master? If so I render my most abject apologies for my forgetfulness." Spinelli intentionally spoke in as soothing a manner as possible and was rewarded when Jason's hands slipped away from his jacket.

Jason sighed and ran his hands through his hair in his signature displacement move. He turned away from Spinelli and this time when he spoke there was a distinct tremor to his voice. "No, Spinelli we didn't have an appointment and the only task I required of you was to know where you were and that you were still breathing." He walked toward the couch and sat down on it, slumping back into the cushions in a way Spinelli had never before seen. His face was lined and drained looking.

Spinelli followed him over and sat down gingerly beside him on the sofa, turning his body so he was facing his roommate. "Why would Stone Cold be concerned as to whether or not the Jackal was having any issues with his breathing?" He was genuinely confused. Everything that had happened since he had been unceremoniously yanked through the door and thrust up against the wall by Jason was a conundrum to him.

Jason turned his head slowly and looked at him for a long searching moment. He appeared to be checking Spinelli over, making sure that it was really him and that each of his features was in good order and in its appointed location. Slowly, stiffly he sat up and retrieved a familiar looking buff envelope from the coffee table. Handing it to Spinelli, he said, "This came sometime today. It was slipped under the door and I found it on the floor when I came home."

Spinelli looked down at the envelope, he felt reluctant to open it and see its contents. "From Franco, I presume."

Jason just nodded, his eyes once again glued to Spinelli's face, "Yeah," he said, his voice cold steel, "He's going to regret ever sending it. I promise you."

The hacker couldn't put it off any longer. He needed to know what had caused Jason to so thoroughly revert to his mob enforcer demeanor. Hesitantly, he opened the metal clasp on the envelope and pulled out the glossy eight by ten photograph contained within. Spinelli gasped and Jason who had followed his glance down flinched reflexively and made to grab it away.

"Maybe you shouldn't…" he began, but it was too late.

It was a black and white picture of Spinelli. It was obviously a candid, not a posed shot and it was clear that he had been entirely unaware of the anonymous photographer. His head was down turned and cocked to one side but that wasn't the disquieting aspect of the picture. The entire sheet of photographic paper was smeared with a red substance that all but obliterated Spinelli's features.

"Paint?" He offered cautiously, trying to defuse Jason's strange attitude.

He didn't understand why he seemed so perturbed. Sure, it bothered Jason, naturally it did. After all, it was a picture of his roommate which was defaced in a grim and overtly threatening manner. Still, here he was safe and sound sitting next to Jason. Honestly, if Franco was a danger to anyone, Spinelli thought it much more likely that he would attack Jason where he was most vulnerable. Sam, Michael, Morgan, Carly, even Sonny-those were Jason's hostages to fortune- everyone knew it.

It would seem that Franco had miscalculated in choosing to intimidate Jason via the medium of Spinelli. It wasn't that Jason wouldn't protect him, wouldn't be angry at Franco but there wouldn't be the red hot rage like that which had consumed him until Claudia finally died for her untenable role in Michael's shooting. Jason was endlessly tormented by what happened to Michael and would react with ice cold ferocity if anyone dared threaten him further. If Spinelli was harmed, he would be regretful and he would certainly avenge him but that would be more a matter of enforcing his own personal code rather than a fury filled vendetta.

Or, at least if someone had asked him prior to this evening, that is what Spinelli would have theorized. He knew Jason valued him, particularly for his computer skills and perhaps even for his insight into human motivations. Yet, he wasn't arrogant enough to believe that he was much more than a useful tool and sometimes sounding board to his mentor. While Jason had become the most influential person in his world Spinelli was perceptive enough to recognize the reverse wasn't true. He had observed first hand over the years of his acquaintance with the taciturn mob enforcer the people he truly treasured. They were a select group to which Spinelli had never regarded himself as belonging, at least not in any way beyond merely gracing the edge of the inclusive circle.

Tonight though, as he regarded the set jaw of his roommate, registered the dark shadows under his eyes and the way his hand, now holding the picture, trembled ever so slightly, he didn't know what to think. Perhaps he was the one who had miscalculated, maybe Jason actually did care to some greater degree beyond that with which Spinelli had previously accredited him. A warm sensation briefly flooded through his veins before he remembered himself and tried to clamp down upon it. He mentally chided himself for having hope, it was an outmoded emotion in his life and he was disappointed to feel himself backsliding and indulging its unsolicited presence. It was probably the fault of the season of the year and all the accompanying outpouring of sentimentality which was causing him to entertain such notions, even in a peripheral fashion.

Jason was nodding wearily, his head once again resting on the couch cushions, "Yeah, I get that it's paint, Spinelli. That didn't mean though that a psychopath like Franco didn't have you somewhere and was actually extracting the real thing from you." His voice was paper thin with exhaustion.

Spinelli nodded, his head reeling as he tried to process everything that had been haphazardly thrown at him since he walked-well, been pulled-through the door less than ten minutes ago. He had been a target and Jason was worried, extremely worried by the looks of things. Abruptly, he stood up from the couch, he needed solitude, required some peace and quiet to think.

Jason stood when he did, "Where are you going?" His tone was sharp and his eyes apprehensive as though he didn't want to let Spinelli out of his sight.

"The Jackal must apologize for causing Stone Cold undue distress. He had no knowledge, no intention of any such act. I simply thought perhaps you would be best served if I absented myself for a while." He saw the quick flare of almost panic in Jason's eyes and immediately attempted to reassure him. "I mean only to retire to my room. I realize that we ought to analyze the photograph in order to help determine what Franco's intentions are. Still, it is almost Christmas and I thought perhaps we could place a moratorium on such grim activities for the brief space of a day."

Jason nodded his head, "Yeah, I'd forgotten. You're right, as much as I want to get this creep, we can wait a day." Spinelli was almost to the stairs when he spoke again, "Where were you all day? I was calling and calling you. Then when I couldn't find you I went out looking and well, other people were too…I wasn't the only one searching for you but no one had a clue as to where you might be."

Spinelli paused, his foot on the first stair. "The Jackal was caroling at Willow Pond nursing home and then he was busy serving dinner at the North Side Homeless Shelter. Afterward, I attended the evening Christmas Eve service at St. Timothy's. They are all rituals which I perform in observance of the holiday. I turned my cell phone off as I wished to be fully in the moment and concentrating on what I was doing."

Jason's eyes were red rimmed as he unexpectedly crossed the carpet in a few quick paces. He grabbed a startled Spinelli and wrapped his arms around him in a crushing bear hug. "From now on out, you will leave me information about anything like that you are doing and you will check your messages at least every half hour. Are we clear?" He was attempting to be absolute in his dictates but his hitched breathing combined with the fact he was speaking into Spinelli's hair changed the desired effect into one more of supplication.

Spinelli spoke his agreement into Jason's chest, "The Jackal will comply with his Master's demands until such time as the situation with Franco is resolved."

He found himself being pushed away from the encircling arms and felt a momentary flash of regret for the loss of contact as he looked up into Jason's eyes, narrowed in displeasure, staring down at him. "No, Spinelli, that isn't what I said or meant. Until we solve this thing with Franco, your cell phone will never be off and you will not go anywhere unescorted from now on out. Do you hear me?"

Spinelli just gazed at him, stupefied by his adamant tone of voice. One look at Jason's severe expression told him that he could protest in vain or he could save himself the trouble and simply capitulate as he would have to do sooner or later. "I hear you, Stone Cold." He said in a subdued voice.

"Okay," Jason relented now that he had what he wanted, "Head on upstairs. I have a few phone calls to make."

Spinelli obediently climbed the stairs, his head spinning with so much sensory overload that he actively craved the sanctuary of his room so that he could sort through his impressions and feelings. Something, an instinct perhaps, caused him to turn back and stand at the edge of the hall where he was invisible to anyone downstairs but could still distinctly hear Jason's conversation.

"No, he's back, he's okay. No, no Franco didn't have him and he isn't going to get him either." There was a pause as Jason listened to whomever he was speaking to, "Yeah, we'll up security on everyone but it doesn't matter anymore, Sam. He threatened Spinelli and I will deal with him right after the holiday. Look, I have to go. There are a few other people I have to call and let them know that he's safe, they'll be concerned." He gave a little laugh in response to something she said, "It is now, you too, Merry Christmas."

He must have hit speed dial because almost immediately he was speaking again, "Hey, Carly, he's back. He was out doing charity stuff, going to church services." Again an interval of silence as Carly replied, "I know, we should've thought of something like that, it makes sense now." Jason sounded sheepish at his lack of insight as to his roommate's extracurricular activities, "No, there aren't any plans for tomorrow…"

Spinelli turned and headed forlornly down the hall toward his room, he didn't especially want to hear Jason accept an invitation from the Valkyrie to spend Christmas with her family. If not that then he was sure the next option would be Fair Samantha's welcoming arms and a holiday tête á tête with her. He was very confused and mixed up at the moment and he simply was too tired to deal with the fact that he was once again being excluded, being relegated to the outer fringes of the people he and Jason knew in common. Excluded, he scornfully recognized, until the next crisis when they required the utilization of his superb cyber skills in their time of need.

He changed into a long sleeve t-shirt, covering it with a worn out hoodie, combining them both with a pair of flannel pajama pants and a pair of thick woolen socks. Amply armored against the chill temperatures Jason kept the penthouse at, he decided to simply let the analysis of whatever had occurred between himself and his mentor wait until tomorrow or perhaps even later. For now he was simply going to adhere to custom by watching 'A Christmas Story' and escaping for a while from the complex reality which was his life.

He was sitting back against a pile of pillows watching the opening credits of the film when there was a knock at his door. "Spinelli, can I come in?"

He briefly closed his eyes in frustration, he didn't want any more confrontations, any more lectures on his choices about what he should or shouldn't have done. He just wanted to watch his movie in peace. Yet, inevitably he replied, "Of course, Stone Cold, the Jackal welcomes your presence…just not right now," he added under his breath as the door swung open.

Jason entered bearing a tray with food on it. "Knowing you, I doubt you ate a thing all the while you were out doing your various activities."

Spinelli hit the pause button on the remote and sat up in astonishment. "It is most kind of Stone Cold to think of the Jackal's requirement for nourishment. You are indeed correct. I did not find an interlude for supper this evening and until this very moment was not aware of how truly famished I am. Many gracious thanks for your generous offering, Stone Cold."

Jason shrugged awkwardly as he placed the tray on the foot of the bed, "It's not a problem. I made you a chicken sandwich with barbeque chips and an orange soda."

Spinelli scooted forward on the bed and reached for the plate with the food Jason had prepared on it. He discovered he really was starving and it wasn't until he had crammed a handful of chips into his mouth and taken a refreshing swig of orange soda that he noticed there was something additional on the tray. "Chocolate cream pie," he said indistinctly through the food and liquid he had yet to swallow.

Jason looked at him in exasperation but there was a distinct twinkle in his eye. "It's not going anywhere, Spinelli. Eat like a human being and then you can have the pie and I'll join you if that's all right." He seemed almost diffident as though he were asking Spinelli's permission to stay and share the treat with him.

Spinelli took a moment to masticate the chips and using the soda as a lubricant washed it all down through his esophagus to his stomach before attempting to speak again. "The Jackal would be most honored to have Stone Cold stay and partake of pie with him."

Jason looked over at the frozen television screen curiously. "Did I interrupt something? Were you watching a movie?"

It was Spinelli's turn to duck his head shyly. He concentrated on the chicken sandwich as an excuse for not meeting Jason's penetrating gaze. "It is a custom the Jackal observes each year, watching 'A Christmas Story'."

Jason's face creased into a frown, "Never heard of it, is it any good?"

Spinelli sputtered in dismayed response, the sandwich dropping back forgotten onto the plate as he looked as his mentor in disbelief. "Surely Stone Cold jests! How is it possible you have never seen such a timeless holiday classic?"

"I don't watch a lot of television or movies, you know that Spinelli." Jason answered quietly enough but there was a slight hint of defensiveness in his tone which often occurred when he was caught unawares about some aspect of mainstream culture.

"Would you like to partake of the Jackal's holiday tradition tonight?" He was smiling tentatively as he made the offer, half sure he would be rebuffed.

"Yeah, that would be nice." Jason reached over and picked up one of the pieces of chocolate pie from the tray. He gave a small satisfied grin at Spinelli's look of amazement as he moved to the head of the bed and stealing some pillows from the hacker's stash made himself comfortable. "You can watch and eat at the same time can't you?" He inquired sardonically, holding up his own fork and eating a bite of pie as though to demonstrate the concept to his clueless roommate.

They watched the movie in companionable silence. Jason appeared to like it very much. He actually laughed out loud at several parts including the arrival of the leg lamp and when Ralphie appeared on the stairs dressed up in his pink rabbit costume. During one of Ralphie's fantasy sequences he cast a quick look in Spinelli's direction, his lips curved in a semi-smile. "Reminds me of someone," was his only comment as his roommate colored slightly.

It was late when the movie finally ended. Jason climbed down from the bed and picking up the tray collected all the empty plates and silverware and started for the door. He stopped and turned to look at Spinelli who was pulling back the covers on his bed. "Hey, Carly asked us over to have dinner with her and her family tomorrow. Do you want to go?"

Startled, Spinelli stood by the bed, a pillow clutched in his hands. "Did the Valkyrie invite the Jackal?" He asked cautiously.

Jason looked puzzled as he responded, "Of course she did, Spinelli. It's up to you if you want to go or not. If you'd rather we can spend the day here instead."

"What about Fair Samantha?" He had a lump in his throat as he valiantly tried to once again not read too much into the invitation.

"Sam? She's spending the day with Alexis and the girls. She asked us if we wanted to come but you know how Alexis feels about me…Are you okay, Spinelli-you look a little pale." Jason was starting to put the tray down on a table by the door as he stared anxiously at his roommate.

Spinelli sat down on his bed, the pillow laying disregarded on his lap, he felt dizzy. When he opened his eyes, Jason was crouched down in front of him, his brilliant blue eyes cloudy with concern as he reached a hand up and pushing Spinelli's bangs out of the way, felt his forehead. "Don't you feel well?"

Spinelli bit his lip, he was terrified to ask the question that was at the forefront of his brain but he had to know the answer. "Stone Cold says we…we are invited to the Valkyrie's and that Fair Samantha asked if we wanted to come to the Fearsome District Attorney's abode. How does that association come about?"

"Association?" Jason looked even more alarmed as though Spinelli might be delirious, "What do you mean?" He stood up and sat next to Spinelli on the bed, for a moment he was quiet as he tried to interpret Spinelli's oblique inquiry. "You are asking why they included you in the invitation, isn't that right?"

Spinelli nodded, he refused to look at Jason, he was too scared of what he might see. "Yes, the inclusion of the Jackal, it is unexpected."

Jason sighed, he placed his hand under Spinelli's chin and turned his face so he was staring directly at him, "It's simple, Spinelli, they asked you for two reasons. The first ought to be self evident. You're Sam's partner and friend and Carly also likes you very much. The second is just as plain but I don't think you see it at all so I will tell it to you in straightfoward terms. Even if the first reason didn't apply, they would still invite you because I wouldn't go without you. Christmas is a day you spend with your family and they understand that is who you are to me, my family. The real question is why don't you understand it?"

"Stone Cold considers the Jackal his family?" He needed it said again. Really he wouldn't mind if he could manage to somehow surreptitiously record it so he could play it back anytime he wanted or needed to hear those miraculous words coming from Jason's lips.

"Yes, Spinelli," he was entirely serious, his eyes focused and direct as he looked into Spinelli's doubting ones. "Why do you think I was so petrified earlier when I thought Franco had gotten you? The thought of something like that happening to you…" The tremor from earlier had returned to Jason's voice but he didn't try to turn away or hide the emotion. He seemed to understand that Spinelli needed to see him feeling vulnerable in order for him to validate what he was telling him. "You mean as much to me as Sam, Carly, Michael, or Morgan. You are just as much family to me as they are. Tomorrow is Christmas and we will spend it together here or at Carly's. I don't care which, only about the together part, got it?"

Dry mouthed, Spinelli nodded, "Got it, Stone Cold. I would like to spend the day with the Valkyrie and her loved ones if that is acceptable."

Jason released his grip on the hacker's chin, getting up from the bed, he started back for the door, "That's acceptable. Now get some sleep, it's late. Merry Christmas, Spinelli."

"Merry Christmas, Jason." Spinelli whispered, feeling dazed as he once again turned to the task of getting under the bedcovers.

Soon silence reigned over the penthouse. It was the hush of deep night that had some extra element of peace to it on this special occasion. Spinelli lay awake, his eyes staring out into the dark as he tried to absorb the concept that he had finally received what he had spent his entire life yearning for and that it had absolutely nothing to do with Christmas. "For love has no season," he reverently breathed out into the gentle quiet. Closing his eyes, he tried to still his fevered brain as he composed himself for sleep, an irrepressible smile of joy on his lips.

Author's note: Reviews are appreciated.


End file.
